Disclaimer: I don't own FF8. Blah blah blah and all that stuff.
Note: This is the prologue for a story I was planning to write. If it receives enough reviews from you and thoughts about how I may continue it, I will. Please enjoy.
Prologue
Requiem Aeternam- Rest EternalRain. The soft droplets of water rattled their sweet music on the streets of Vienna, blanketing the entire city in a cloud of water and mist. It was a dark day indeed, and the Catholics of Austria had decided to go about the city in clothes of black to mourn a great one who had recently passed away. In the midst of a crowd, a man who perfectly blended with the mourning citizens slowly made his way towards the church set in the square. He too, was wearing black, but not for the purpose of mourning. Wearing a black leather trench coat, a turtleneck and jeans of the same color, and boots, he maneuvered his way through the sea of people. He shrouded his icy blue eyes from the crowd with a pair of dark glasses. He had finally arrived at the St. Stephen's Cathedral.
A guard greeted him, and he presented a tiny cream-colored envelope with a seal. After allowing the guard to properly examine him, he entered the church. Austria had been mourning the death of the kind archbishop who had established the church into a great institution that found harmony and accord with other religions. He was the one who helped tie and mend relations between the Protestants of Austria and the Catholics. This was the reason why the great St. Stephen's Cathedral was closed off to visitors for the time being. The man slowly examined his surroundings and dipped his hand into a basin of holy water, performing the sign of the cross. Walking towards a bed of candles, he slid a Euro coin out of his pocket and inserted it into one of the slots before lighting a fresh candle and laying it among the many others flickering in the darkness.
The smell of the church invigorated him. The scent of aging marble and incense captivated his senses. He slowly approached one of the pews and knelt down, grabbing a silver rosary from his coat pocket as he began praying. There was a mass going on, and in the distance he saw a choir rehearsing a requiem to be presented for the Austrian public. A priest stood in the midst of it all, delivering the mass in German and Latin.
The soothing chant of the church choir rang through the cavernous chambers of the gothic structure. On the ceiling and the walls of the room were the frescoes of the great Biblical figures, and various statues of angels and saints were aligned perfectly along the aisles. The man could not help but feel calm and collected in the church building. It was a form of art, and it was also a place of worship. He diverted his attention to the choir while reciting one of his prayers.
The choir had begun to sing the requiem aeternum of an Austrian composer's requiem, singing the Latin hymn immediately following the words of the priest.
In German, the aging priest said, "Eternal rest give unto them, O Lord. And let perpetual light shine upon them. A hymn, O God, becometh thee in Zion. And a vow shall be paid to thee in Jerusalem. Hear my prayer, all flesh shall come before you." The brown haired man did the sign of the cross as the choir sang:
"Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine.
Et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Te decet hymnus, Deus, in Sion,
Et tibi reddetur votum in Jerusalem
Exaudi orationem meam
Ad te omnis caro veniet."
The choir paused and allowed the priest to continue his chants. The last notes of music echoed across the vast chambers of the church, the sound bouncing off the walls perfectly to create a resonant environment of worship.
The priest continued again. "Eternal rest give unto the dead, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. Eternal rest give unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them."
The sopranos commenced the singing this time, followed by the altos and by the male singers. Soon, their voices overpowered the room again.
"Requiem aeternam dona defunctis, Domine.
Et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine
Et lux perpetua eis."
The man was just about to finish his last prayer when the priest saw him and made the sign of the cross. He then turned to the choir and spoke in German. "You are dismissed for a break. Please come back in an hour."
The choir silently left the room and the priest motioned the man to enter one of the confessionals. He said "amen" and followed the priest, entering one of the dark compartments.
"Guten abend, vater," the man said before making the sign of the cross. (Good evening father)
"Guten abend. You are late. You were supposed to come at five o'clock. Why is it that you arrive an hour late? This is…"
The man interrupted him. "I was busy."
"Still, you could have informed me earlier. I had to extend the rehearsals an hour longer. Do you know that we still have thirteen more parts of the requiem to continue on?" the priest scolded the younger man.
"I don't do requiems. I am not a priest remember?" he cockily answered the priest.
"That is because you are not patient enough my young boy. You never listen to people, your temper gets the better of you sometimes. You are often strong willed, and at other times I wonder how you can still manage to come to church. How on earth can you be a priest?"
"…" The man kept his silence.
The priest rubbed his temples and continued, "I'm sorry for snapping at you my boy, but give it time. You are young after all. Just remember that you have several years ahead of you and once you realize your true calling from Christ, you may be a member of the church."
A moment of silence was shared by the two men before they continued with the conversation.
"What is it that you called me here for?" asked the man.
The priest sighed and slid a kraft envelope underneath a small opening from his side of the confessional. A wax seal with a holy emblem decorated the front of the envelope. "You know your duties and responsibilities as an agent of the church."
"Yes father. Is it another mission to exterminate?"
"I was coming to that," the priest said as he sighed again before continuing. "Yes it is. This is a task commissioned by one of the Vatican's top cardinals, so I urge you to execute it well."
The man grabbed the envelope and opened it, examining the contents of the documents. "So…the Vatican wants me to assassinate a nun in one of our convents in England, am I right?"
"That is right."
"Is there a reason why they want me to kill her?"
"If you read the rest of the document, you will find the details there, but I would rather tell them to you now in a way that wouldn't confuse you. The nun they are trying to target is labeled as an enemy of the church. One of the sisters in the convent reported her possessing natural gifts that seem to be only supernatural. While it is customary for the Catholic church to revere such gifts as coming from God, the cardinal is afraid that this woman may be a practitioner of the black arts."
"Has she done anyone wrong?"
The priest paused for a moment. "Not that I know of, but then…"
"Then is it not a crime to kill an innocent?" he questioned the holy father.
"Yes it is, but the church is being careful. Don't question the cardinal's motives. As much as I oppose against this, I myself do not want to go against the Vatican. They are a force to reckon with, and you know that."
"I am not going to refuse the mission father, as I am a servant of the church. But I do not want to stain my hands again with the blood of someone who has done no harm to anyone."
"I'm sorry I have to put you through this my boy, but this matter isn't something I can easily pardon. It is an order from the highest order of the Roman Catholic Church."
The man looked at the document again and asked, "Does the Pope know about this?"
The priest remained silent. "Does he know about it father?"
The priest shook his head. "The pope is out of this matter. The cardinal who had the mission assigned to you handles the occult affairs that may be considered a danger to the church. If the pope did know, he would have stopped this and asked for a fairer trial for the woman you are to kill."
"Then why can't we inform him? He is after all, the highest of rank in our order."
The priest felt his head pounding. "I am not in the position to bring an order given by a superior to the highest one. I understand your concern, but this is your responsibility so you are obligated to fulfill it."
The man scanned the document again. "How do I know which nun to kill? You didn't even give me a picture to begin with."
"Ah, there is no picture. No one can take a very good shot of the woman's face. No matter how good the photographer, she seems to be able to elude them quite easily. A mystery, don't you think?"
"Indeed."
"You should be able to find her easily though. She has dark hair, pale skin, and brown eyes. She's quite good looking too. It's a pity we have to kill her."
"I see." After a long pause, the man asked, "So how does the church plan to have her killed?"
The priest opened another sliding piece of wood in the confessional and snuck a leather bag underneath. "There is a syringe in that bag filled with a certain substance formulated to kill. If you inject it into the victim, she will spasm and sweat heavily before dying. The substance is expelled into the air through her sweat, so there shouldn't be any trace of it in her body. If they do conduct an autopsy, they will find that she died by a normal heart attack. Nothing more, nothing less. You will also find twenty thousand euros and ten thousand pounds sterling in the bag. It will aid you in the mission and I hope you make the most out of that money. Do not squander it all."
The man nodded and put the bag on his lap.
"So, would you like to confess your sins today?" the priest inquired the man.
The man replaced the contents of the envelope and put it into his pocket. "Of sins, I have many, most of wish I do not wish to confess to one lesser than He who created the universe and me. I hope you understand father, but I would rather not say anything about my personal life just yet. When the time comes, maybe I will. Now is not the time."
The priest smiled and said, "If you want to talk about it anytime, just come by."
"I don't always to go Vienna."
"It was a suggestion."
"Don't you have to do the Kyrie Eleison father?" the man asked, annoyed by the priest's attempt at nosing into his private life.
"I do, but there is someone who needs a friend more than a lifeless shell of a great man whose soul is with the angels. I'm certain he has no need for a song to be sung to deaf ears especially if the choir of heavens are singing to him."
The man shook his head and stood up. "I won't fail the church father, but I hope this will be the last time I have to end the life of another."
"I will be sure to do everything I can to put you out of your position to somwhere where you will find peace. The members of the Austrian church are considering me as the next archbishop. If I am elected, I will certainly help you. If not, I will try my best still."
The man bowed and did the sign of the cross. "Thank you father Cid. God's peace be with you."
" And God's peace be with you too, Squall."
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Squall Leonhart exited the building and called for a taxi. He asked the Middle Eastern driver to take him to his hotel, passing by the several edifices of the elegant, European town square. He drove past the Hapsburg's palace and the Maria Theresa Platz and finally arrived at the building. Once inside, he went to the receptionist.
"Guten Abend Herr Leonhart. How can I help you?"
"I need a plane ticket for England immediately. I am flying tomorrow. Can you refer me to a travel agent?"
"One moment please," the blonde receptionist said as she dialed a number. "When are you leaving sir?"
"Preferably tomorrow noon," Squall said, folding his arms and looking around the lobby.
"I'm sorry Herr Leonhart, but there is only one flight to England tomorrow, and it leaves at fifteen o'clock."
"That will be fine."
"Ok." The woman spoke to the agent rapidly and about two minutes later, received a fax from the travel agent. "Will you be putting this on your bill sir?"
"Yes, please put in on my bill."
The woman typed a few keys in the computer in front of her and gave Squall a bill. "Cash or credit?"
Squall paused to think and said, "Cash."
"That will be six hundred and fifty euros Herr Leonhart." Squall grabbed the leather bag father Cid had given him earlier and searched for six hundred fifty euros. After giving the receptionist the cash, he was given a receipt.
"The ticket will arrive at ten o'clock tonight. Dinner is served in the dining room in an hour, but you may opt to try one of the restaurants here in Vienna. May I suggest the Café Imperial sir? It's only a five minute walk from here. If you like pastries, you might want to go to the Patisserie Demel. They have excellent cakes there and you will like it."
"I will consider that. Thank you."
"Have a good evening sir, and enjoy your dinner."
Squall nodded and entered one of the elevators. Pushing the button "4", he waited for a moment until the elevator arrived at his floor. Finding his way around the maze, he finally arrived at his room and took out his key. Inserting the card into the slot, the door automatically opened and he entered. He checked the room to see if anyone was inside, and thankfully, it was empty.
Squall closed the windows and the drapes, making sure that no one would see him. He opened the leather bag and found a pen inside. Opening its backside and unscrewing it, he found the point of the needle and carefully touched the tip with his gloved hand. He put back the cover and examined everything inside. It looked like a normal office bag, and all he needed was a syringe. How hard would it be anyways?
He opened his file again and looked at the file. "Rinoa Caraway…" he whispered to himself while looking at the file.
He put the contents of the envelope in a closed compartment of the bag and put it into the duffel bag he brought with him. Making sure it was locked, he hid the bag in a section of the room and turned off the lights, locking the door again as he made his way to the lifts.
When he was back in the lobby, he asked the woman for directions to the Café Imperial. Soon enough, he was back in the streets of Vienna and walking towards the Imperial Hotel, a grand edifice created only for the imperial family and its well-treated guests. It was now a symbol of Austria's opulence, and the famous torte served in the café was the emblem of the mastery of the Austrian pastry chef.
Five minutes later, he was in the Café Imperial being served by one of the elegantly dressed waitresses. After being offered a menu, he ordered a cup of Viennese coffee, chestnut torte, and boiled beef, a specialty of the city. When his coffee came, he thanked the waitress and examined the contents of the envelope again.
"Rinoa Caraway…" he thought to himself. "Where have I heard that name before?"
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How did you like this chapter? If you like it, please review. I will make sure that you will enjoy the next one as much as this. This is a Squinoa, of course. The next chapter is entitled "Kyrie Eleison"